Denouement
by sky-alchemist056
Summary: A girl who has nothing left, that's what Lea Ravencross considers herself. She has lost everyone she loves, including her fiance, because of one murderer and one murderer alone - Jonathan Morgenstern. She will stop at nothing just to avenge them. But what happens if she is transferred to a place where she has to live under the same roof as him? Pairings are the same as the books.
1. Moonlight's Eyes

**DISCLAIMER: To all readers, I am terribly sorry to tell you that I wasn't born with the name Cassandra Clare so basically the terms, characters, and the series from where this fan fiction came up is not mine.**

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**One**

**Moonlight's Eyes**

He never liked the idea of parties, especially when it was filled with Downworlders, but he couldn't make his sister change her mind. Nevertheless, he would be given a chance to have a killing spree – he would really love that. But he knew that would be impossible for his sister likes some Downworlders as much as he despises them and want to tear them into pieces. He was about to suggest on staying at the Institute where he could do whatever he wants, but he remembered that there was this wretched woman – Maryse Lightwood, who had always despised him for he killed her youngest, that will keep a close eye on him while he's in there. So he just dropped the idea and continued to follow the people in front of him.

He observed the people walking before him. Way up front, his _beloved_ sister clung on the arm of his once dark _parabatai_ and adoptive brother, who was her boyfriend – Jace Herondale. She was leaning her head onto his shoulder as he looked at her lovingly. She was obviously happy with the angel boy's presence but never her _demon_ brother's which always made him jealous. On their left were the Daylighter and the younger counterpart of Maryse Lightwood – Isabelle Lightwood, who had once an interest with him until he murdered her little brother, which enraged her and wanted to kill him herself. The two, for him, were an odd couple but he knew Isabelle liked guys who her parents never approved of. _Some kind of rebellion_, he thought. While on their right were two mongrels, it was not because he wasn't used on seeing these two with them but he just didn't like the feeling of having dogs around. For him they were disgusting, like the way his father always despised them. They too were snuggling up each other like dogs would do. _Werewolves_, he spat. And lastly, this guy who wasn't actually in front of him but on his left side. Like him, he walked alone not like these lovebirds in front of them. But he quite knew that when they reached their destination he would be all lovey dovey with someone there.

He could just run away or escape since they weren't paying attention, but it won't do. There was this flipping feeling in his stomach when he thought of running away. It was like the feeling of throwing up. _Is this conscience?_ But he didn't have that thing in his system, he was made for betrayal but he couldn't turn his back on his sister. His sister was the one who kept him near and didn't want to leave.

He was growing impatient. With his arms crossed over his chest, he blurted, "Is there any chance for us to go faster?"

"Already growing impatient, Sebastian?" The female Lightwood asked as she watched him over her shoulder.

"My name is Jonathan," he corrected with an impatient tone. They never called him Jonathan for they always thought that it was Jace's name, but it was his. The angel boy never really had a name, it was a sad fact but he never felt pity. "Why do you even bother to go to a warlock's stupid party anyway?"

The eldest male Lightwood shot him a look of annoyance. This was his _boyfriend_'s party; he couldn't blame him for giving him that look. He said, "If you didn't like to go in the first place, why did even follow us here?"

"It wasn't my—"

"Don't argue with him, Alec," angel boy cut in, not making Jonathan finish what he was saying. He spoke without even averting his attention from Jonathan's sister. Alec obeyed.

"How much farther are we going to walk?" Jonathan asked.

"Wow, Clary, your brother is really impatient," the wolf boy named Jordan commented. He kidnapped him once but being under the curse of the Clave he couldn't do it again. He couldn't do any harm to any Nephilim or Downworlder, just demons.

"We're only a few blocks away," Clary answered. She turned around to meet the bored gaze of her brother. Her head cocked on one side, she reassured him, "We'll be there in a jiffy, I promise." and then returned to her I'm-snuggling-in-my-boyfriend position which made Jonathan roll his eyes in disgust.

They continued to walk. He was silent. He didn't want to talk to any of them with their googly eyes staring at each other. _Let's not spoil the moment_, he told himself. Like what his sister said only a few blocks away and they're there. And finally, they were here. The place was like of a warehouse with multi-colored neon lights dancing around inside. There were Downworlders, tons of them, coming in and out of the place with champagne glasses, cans of beer, and confetti over their heads. Some were bruised and blood ran down their chin, he had the feeling that there was a fist fight inside. He could feel his body shaking in excitement. Just the thought of fighting woke him up from his boredom. He wanted to join in but there was someone who tugged his shirt, stopping him from lunging over the wounded Downworlder. He looked at his side and saw the five-foot body of his little sister with a frowning face. She shook her head, telling him to don't do anything stupid. He wanted to complain, still he couldn't. Stupid Clave, he was born to _kill_, not to _love_. He sighed as she pulled him with her to the front door. They were about to push the 10 feet doors when it swung open by its own revealing a this tall and a little tan Asian looking guy. He had glitter on his hair, gold-green cat eyes, and his clothes were—let's just say not Jonathan's type. He wore this glittery blazer over a pink dress shirt and a red bow-tie, and his pants were just black. He is Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn as so they called. He actually thought of a clown when he first saw him. He couldn't help but chuckle at the exquisite fashion sense this person had.

The warlock shot him a look and told his sister that was now with Jace's side again. "I only invited you." He pointed an index finger to Jonathan and said, "_He_ is not included in my guest list."

Alec approached the warlock and tried to calm him down, "Now, now, Magnus—"

"It was your idea, wasn't it?" the warlock hissed.

His sister got in between the two lovebirds even in the smallest space between them. Sometimes, her petite body had some use. She interfered, "It was my idea, Magnus. It wasn't Alec's. If you don't want him here," she turned her attention to Jonathan, "Jace and I could bring him back to the Institute and we would stay there, Alec and the others will stay here."

Magnus fell silent. He was thinking of an answer to Clary. Clary and Isabelle were excited for the party. For them it was like a reunion, but he was quite sure that he wouldn't be invited. He didn't want to spoil his sister's happiness; he was trying to be a good brother ever since he was caught by the Clave. He blurted, "Don't worry, the Clave made sure that I won't be massacring any of your guests. It's part of the curse."

All of them wore a surprised look on their faces as if there was another head just popped out of his neck like a mushroom. They didn't expect him to speak. Magnus's cat eyes turned into slits. He asked, "Are you sure about that Jonathan Morgenstern?"

"Yes."

"Do you swear?"

He rolled his eyes in disgust. He said, "I swear by the Angel that I won't mur—hurt any of your guests."

Magnus smiled, looking satisfied at what Jonathan swore. He said delightfully, "Make sure that you will do what you just said." Jonathan bit his lip and swore under his breath, regretted what he just said. The warlock then averted his attention back to the others, "Now, come, come."

They entered the warehouse. His company was at ease passing by Downworlders while he felt like he was about to throw up. He couldn't bear their sight and scent. He wanted to kill them all in one blow, and then some burning sensation was felt on his nape; it was the Mark that the Clave inflicted on him to prevent him on killing any Downworlder or Nephilim. He wasn't practically paying attention to the conversation that was being made by Magnus along with his company. He kept walking and walking until he almost bumped onto his little sister who suddenly stopped.

"This will be your seat for tonight's party," Magnus stated. It was a semi-circular couch and had a round table in the middle of it. The couch was made with fluffy velvet and also had these red throw pillows strewn in an unorganized manner. Alec was about to slip in the couch when Magnus got a grip on his arm. "But you, young man, will be sitting with me."

Jonathan saw Alec blush. He couldn't believe that someone as _decent_ as Alec sitting with this _gay_ warlock. Alec gulped, "Okay."

The others slid their way in the semi-circled couch. But he still kept looking at what would the two homosexuals would do. Would they kiss? Canoodle? Have sex? But someone caught his attention. His sister, Clary, called for him, "Aren't you going to sit?"

He just looked at her and didn't speak a word.

She patted the vacant space that was allotted for him. "Here, sit next to me."

He followed and sat beside his sister. He put his feet on the table with his arms crossed over his chest, knocking over some drinks in the process. But he didn't care.

Clary gave him a scolding look but he shrugged it off. She began to rant over his manners, but all of her words were like inaudible muffles – he was not paying attention. His eyes skimmed over the dancing crowd. He could recognize what race they were as his eyes passed over their stature. _Vampire, werewolf, faerie, warlock, Ne—_Nephilim. He suddenly shot up. His face observing this _other_ Nephilim, she wasn't one of them that he was sure. Clary spoke in a worried tone, "Jonathan? Are you okay?"

He just stood there like a stone. He slightly cocked his head on one side. _What is a Shadowhunter doing here in a warlock's party?_

Some strands of her hair were like plastered over her skin, while the others floated from side to side as she danced her stress away – away from the world of demons and shadows. Her eyes were closed as she felt the rhythm of the music flow into her ears and made her slither her waist from side to side. Once in a while she would get a glass of champagne when a waiter passed by her, she would just gulp in the contents in one shot and continued her dancing. She was enjoying it. She was happy when she was invited by Magnus through fire-message. Now was her unwinding session, and for her to unwind was to party all night long.

She had danced with different Downworlders. From time to time, a Night Child would walk next to her and try to seduce her, but in the end he would just get smacked in the face again and again until he's all bloody. When a faerie came near, she would walk away and look for another spot, she never liked them even though they did not do harm on her. When it came to the Children of the Moon, she felt safe. They're the only race of Downworlders she didn't feel uneasy with. She always trusted their kind. The werewolf she danced with left because of duty calls, so she was left dancing on her own yet she didn't feel lonely; she was pretty used to it. And then this guy in black approached her. Her dance slowed and she got a better view of him; he had this pale blond hair that was almost platinum and these dark orbs that were pitch-black.

She felt shivers down her spine as he stood there in front of her, staring her down. Her dance fell to a stop. He looked at her in a way she couldn't explain: his stare was like he was going to eat her at the same time wondering what she really was. He seemed to have seen the fear in her eyes for a mocking smile crept up his face. He said, "Alone, princess?"

She wanted to look away but these obsidian eyes got the hold of her moonlight ones. In some way she was able to look at his stature, and then back to his tunnel-like eyes. He was tall, almost six footer, muscular, slender, and had Marks on his arms – a _Nephilim_. She said bravely, "What do you want?"

He looked around as if searching for something. "It's seems you're alone. Would you like to have some company?"

"No, I'm better off alone," she blurted.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," she answered. Her voice sounded afraid as she said, "You can kindly leave."

He just stared at her with these mocking smile and black hole eyes.

She stared at him back, fighting the urge to run away and hide. She mustn't do that or she'll shame the name of the Nephilim – especially the name of her family. As she watched his dark eyes, he reminded her of some person who murdered her beloved in cold-blood. When that person was killed, the eyes of the killer were the only thing she remembered and they were the same as this person's eyes. The same blackness and the soullessness of the murderer's eyes were exactly the same as this. And eventually, she realized something. Upon recognition of the person in front of her, fear turned into horror; she felt cold and her blood was like washed away from her whole body. And then, horror evolved to anger. Her color came back but her face was red with anger and hatred. She muttered, "_Murderer_."

His smile turned into a dark frown – a merciless killer's face. "What did you say?"

She revised, "Cold-blooded murderer." Her fingers were already touching the cold metal on her side, she was ready to draw out her weapon. But her enemy seemed to notice as he began to crouch and returned to his mocking smile.

He never noticed the small cylindrical metal that was harnessed on her right thigh until it glinted when her right hand touched it. He held out a hand gestured her to attack first.

She saw him coax her to attack first with a dark smirk. She released the metal from her thigh belt. As she held it tightly, it began to elongate turning into a five-foot silver metal staff engraved with two fighting birds that bore runes; each bird was positioned opposite to the other, and on each end of the staff was a small bulk that has a cross engraved on it. She whirled the staff and lunged at him head on with staff raised to hit him.

As the staff went down to hit his head, he dodged it by just moving to one side. There was this small electric shock that he felt as the weapon slightly had contact with his bare skin. He got surprised and stared at his opponent with curiosity.

She rolled on one side almost stumbling over a table. She immediately placed her gaze on her opponent, still bearing the eyes of rage. But she was a little shaken. _He's fast_, she thought. She stood up and charged him again and tried to whack his neck.

He was still able to dodge the attack by bending backward a little. The staff was just centimeters away from his face; if only the staff would elongate more he would have been hit by it. He mocked, "Whoa! You almost got me there sweetheart, a few more inches I guess."

The failure of her second attempt disappointed her. This person was _really_ fast. He was even faster than a normal Nephilim. But she was trained for this, she had fought demons that could run or fly in a speed of light and yet she was always able to kill them although with some difficulty. She was fast herself; her father didn't make her run up and down a mountain for nothing. She immediately recovered and pounced at him before he could even move. _I got you now_, she thought with a smirk.

He didn't even try to move. He had no intention of moving. He had another plan. When her metal stick was about to hit his face, he grasped the stinging metal into his hands; in his mind he flinched because of the pain in holding it but he had no choice, this was the only way he could get near her.

The color of her face drained, she went cold. _He can hold it? He's a demon, isn't he?_ She attempted to yank the staff away but his strong arms stopped her from doing so.

He could feel her trying to pull the stick. He smirked at the fact that he was still stronger than her even though the curse that the Clave laid on him was restraining him to use his full power. He pulled the staff, making her stumble towards him and eventually pinning her to the ground. He was crushing her.

His large body caged her from moving. She couldn't control her staff for he held it steadily as if it was stuck in his hands. With her free hand, she pushed his chest as if she was pushing a wall. She tried to punch his chest, but nothing happened. He just smirked at her.

"Nice try, beautiful, but that won't work," he mocked. "I'm _stronger_ than you." He pulled away the staff from her hand and his free hand caught both of her hands and held them above her head. He raised the staff and aimed for her heart. _Blood, finally, I'm back for you_. And there it was again, the burning sensation of the cursed Mark coming from the back of his neck. He tried to gulp in the pain, but it was unbearable.

As he raised her staff, she stared at him with horror. He was going to kill her mercilessly like what he did to _him_. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it was going to explode. Her eyes were tightly shut, hoping that this would end fast and painless. She waited for the staff breaking her ribs and pounding its way to her heart, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face tensed and hardened, it was like he was trying to endure something – something like _pain_.

His grip loosened. He couldn't take it anymore. He tumbled on one side and cried in pain. He held on to his nape, wanting to rip it apart but if he did that it was still useless. The cursed Mark was not an ordinary Mark; it was engraved way beyond his skin, the only way to take it off was for him to die. He already let go of his prey and also her weapon.

She saw him as he stumbled on her side crying in pain. She immediately stood up – almost tripping, and groped for her staff. When she already got the hold of her staff, she held it up and was ready to hit him relentlessly. And then this small figure shielded him, making her stop her staff in mid-air. She had this flame-colored hair and shining, green eyes that looked at her accusingly. She was followed by a blond boy that bore gold eyes, crouching beside her protectively. She exclaimed, "What are you doing there? Get out of the way! You'll just get hurt."

"What are you going to do?" she asked defiantly. The gold-eyed boy was silent but showed hostility towards her.

"It's none of your business! Get out of the way!"

"You're going to hit him, aren't you?" she accused. "This is part of my business because _he_ is my _brother_!"

There was a pang of guilt that hit her stomach, yet her staff was still raised into mid-air. She never wanted to hit someone innocent, but this guy wasn't. He killed _him_ – the person she loved the most. She was about to crash her staff towards her opponent, she heard this familiar voice coming near them – both commanding and accusing. "What on earth is happening here?"

She twirled to look at the person who spoke, and then she saw the host of the party – Magnus, followed by this black-haired boy that looked a little older than her. She felt that she knew that boy that was with Magnus, but this was no time for reminiscing of the past. She spat, "Magnus, why did you allow this murderer inside your party?"

Magnus was a little surprised at what she said and then stared at the people who were kneeling before one of his valued guests. He saw Clary, Jace, and what seemed to be Jonathan in a fetal position, crying in pain. He said bluntly, "_He_'s one of my guests." His cat-eyes turned into slits when he saw her holding up a staff and was aimed to Jonathan. He ordered, "Eleanor, put that staff down this instant!"

She succumbed to what he said and yelled defiantly, "He _is_ a criminal! What is he doing here? He must be in the cells of the Silent City!"

Magnus got a little irritated. She was making a commotion; some of his guests were looking their way. He murmured, "You don't want to put that down? I would put it down for you." Blue flames flowed out of Magnus's fingers and wrapped themselves around Eleanor's hand, pulling her away from the group that was on the floor and pushing her weapon down.

She groaned in complain, "Magnus, what are you doing?"

"Punishing you," Magnus said simply.

"Look, Magnus," she called. "I'm not the one who is supposed to be punished here." She gestured towards Jonathan with the use of her chin. "He's the one."

"What did this person do to you that made you run amok all of a sudden?" Magnus asked as he played the blue flames that came out from his fingers.

"He killed him, Magnus! He killed him right in front of my eyes! He killed Cal—" she stopped. She thought of another thing to say. She lied, "He attacked me."

Magnus looked at her suspiciously. Jonathan already swore on the Angel that he wouldn't hurt a single being here in his party; he knew that when a Nephilim swore an oath by the Angel, he or she must not ever break the oath. He averted his attention to Clary and Jace. Clary looked worried at her brother's situation while Jace had a hand placed on Clary's back as if supporting her from fainting. Jace seemed to notice Magnus's stare. They made this little conversation with the use of the eyes. _Is she telling the truth?_ Jace turned to Clary and muttered some words to Clary. Clary asked something to her brother who was still in a fetal position because of pain but was no longer crying. It was Clary who answered for her brother; she shook her head to tell Magnus that Eleanor was lying. Magnus just nodded in understanding.

He stared at her accusingly and suspiciously. He didn't believe her. He knew her very well. Magnus always said that she was the worst liar he ever met. She said defiantly, "By the Angel, I'm telling the truth, Magnus!"

"No you're not." So much for her surprise, it wasn't Magnus who responded. It was _him_. Slowly standing up with the aid of his sister, he looked at her angrily but had no intention on hitting her. "You even had a weapon on hand while I don't. Seems unfair, isn't it?"

"You're going to kill me, you wanted to finish what you started," she accused. "You didn't want me to live! You're the reason why all of the people important to me are dea—"

"SILENCE!" Magnus yelled. All of them stopped, even the other guests stared at them in confusion. "Clary, please bring your brother back to your seats." He shifted his attention to Eleanor, "And you miss, go back to your room, immediately. Throw up everything you got in your stomach—"

"But—" Eleanor complained.

"_Now_," Magnus insisted. His gold-green eyes flickered in anger. This was one of the reasons why he never liked children.

She bit her lip, wanting to complain some more but she knew that this would do no good for her and Magnus. He was already mad. She never saw Magnus angry, and she never wished for it to happen. She took a last accusing glance at the murderer's back as they left the space they were in, and marched her way across the warehouse and headed to her room.

Magnus eyed her as she disappeared into the crowd of Downworlders. When he was already sure that she wouldn't be coming back for another blow of ruckus, he followed the small lot that was walking back to their assigned seats. They were just a step ahead of him so he got there just right after the others seated. He raised his brow accusingly at the injured boy. He said, "You said you wouldn't hurt anybody, but what in the world is the meaning of this?"

"I just approached her like anybody else would," Jonathan started. "We just had a little chit-chat and then BAM! She got angry at me and then tried to kill me. Well, apparently, I was just defending myself." He shrugged and had this playful smirk on his face.

Magnus rolled his eyes in disbelief. _This_ person never needed defending. He knew that this person he was talking to was a killing machine, and still was even with the curse that was etched into his very being. He was one of the warlocks that helped the Clave to create this cursed Mark. He was pretty proud of it, yet it was still weak for him and he knew that even the combined powers of the Silent Brothers, Iron Sisters, and warlocks wouldn't be able to completely control this ever so dark creature. Although it may not degrade this person's power and his thirst for blood, it could still stop him from doing great harm to both Nephilim and Downworlders. Magnus sighed. He rubbed his temple due to over thinking and stress. He called out to all of his guests, "All right, party's over! Now, SCRAM!"

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**A/N: So... how was it? Did you enjoy reading it? Or it just sucked as hell? Please tell me I beg of you! Okay, that came out wrong. Just tell me what you think about this chapter guys. Is this worth continuing? Just tell me in your reviews, whether it may be negative or positive. I accept constructive criticisms, it's healthy anyway.**

**P.S. To all of my former readers, I'm back from the dead. So take it easy on ranting on me. Got too cooped up in junior and senior year in high school. And to my new readers, don't expect fast updates. College is killing me softly. HAHAHAHAHA just kidding! :D**


	2. Eleanor Ravencross

**DISCLAIMER: I'm sorry guys, but really I waited and it didn't happen! I didn't morph into a person called Cassandra Clare. So basically, I do not own the Shadowhunter Chronicles, but I do own the OC of this fan fiction and the fan fiction itself.**

***Take Note: I'll be using a teaser from the _City of Heavenly Fire_ here. If you guys could remember, it is the teaser where young Jonathan/Sebastian asks Valentine if Jocelyn will come back for him. It was drawn by Cassandra Jean, an artists that works hand in hand with Cassie Clare. She draws the teasers if Clare wants her to.**

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**Two**

**Eleanor Ravencross**

Alec saw how stressed Magnus was. Seeing him massaging his temple because of what happened a while ago made Alec worried. It had been a long time since Magnus was like this, the last time was when he was studying a way to create a rune that could tame Jonathan. Alec sighed and went to the side of Magnus and laid a hand on his back. Magnus's back was tense under his touch, and eventually relaxed. He caught the attention of Magnus, and he stared at him lovingly.

Seeing Alec's worried expression was the last thing that he wanted to see. Magnus always knew that Alec was a worrywart and he could get too agitated. He couldn't afford his beloved 18 year-old boyfriend get too worried. He also knew that when he was stressed, so was Alec. He pulled Alec into a hug and murmured to his ear, "I'm tired, let's rest."

Alec returned Magnus's hug and squeezed him tightly. He answered, "Sure." He let go of Magnus and stared at the different expressions of his friends; Jace was looking sideways – not really interested, Clary was smiling gingerly at them, and Jonathan – he never thought of this person as a friend after what he did to Max, his mouth agape with a twinge of disgust in his eyes, Alec knew that Jonathan was a homophobic. He said, "You guys go back to the Institute, I'll stay—"

"What did we miss?" His sister just barged in the conversation while holding Simon's hand.

Jace answered, "A lot."

"Really?" Isabelle's eyes had these mixture jealousy and anxiety. "What happened?"

It was Jonathan who answered. "I got attacked."

"Really? That's _awesome_!" Izzy's eyes flickered with excitement. Alec shot her a look but she didn't see him. She snapped her fingers in frustration. "Too bad I wasn't there to see it! Who did it anyway? I'm sure _he_ got some nerve in punching you in the face. Is he a werewolf, vampire, or warlock? I'm sure the brawl was pretty one-sided—"

"She is a _she_," Magnus interrupted.

Isabelle whipped her head towards Magnus. She stared at him quizzically. "It was a _girl_?"

"Yes," Magnus answered abruptly. "And her name is _Eleanor_. She's a Shadowhunter as well."

"Why do I have a feeling I heard that name before?" Isabelle said. "What do you think, Alec?"

Alec paused. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment and shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Magnus reasoned, "There are many female Shadowhunters whose name is 'Eleanor', I am sure of it."

"Actually, Magnus," Jace stepped in the conversation. "If I can remember correctly, there are only a few Shadowhunters here in the Conclave that bears that name."

"Apparently, she isn't a part of the Conclave, so much for your disappointment," Magnus said in-a-matter-of-factly. "Now, if you'll excuse _us_." Magnus grabbed Alec's wrist and pulling him away from the lot. "Leave now. Shoo shoo!"

Alec was now walking backwards – almost tripping, and shouted at them as he was being pulled by Magnus. "Jace, lead them back to the Institute! Tell mom I'll be sleeping over Magnus's loft tonight! I'll be back tomorrow!"

His friends dissolved into the crowd that was leaving the place. Alec went to Magnus's side, pacing up with his long strides. He was still holding him, but not by the wrist but by the hand. His long fingers were laced into Alec's, holding them tightly as if he were to disappear. He was silent, his eyes fixated at their way to his room.

Alec squeezed Magnus's hand, reassuring him he was not going to leave. He asked, "Magnus are you okay?"

Magnus looked at his boyfriend lovingly. "I'm fine, just tired."

"It's about the _girl_, isn't it?" Alec asked.

"No," Magnus said. There was a long pause and then he revised. "Yes, I think."

"Who is that girl anyway?" The words came from Alec's mouth involuntarily. "Is she your _ex_?"

Magnus stared at him with startled eyes. "Are we going through this conversation again, Alexander? No, she is not my ex. And I am certainly _not_ interested in her."

Alec's tightening heart eased a little; he was still not satisfied with Magnus's answer. "Then, _what_ is she?"

"She is a Nephilim," Magnus said simply.

"That's not what I meant—"

"She's a friend," Magnus said in an annoyed tone. "Now, are you satisfied?" Magnus let go of Alec's hand. He made him upset. Magnus strides went faster and faster, leaving Alec half-running to keep up with his pace.

"Look, Magnus. I was trying to—"

"Don't talk to me," Magnus said sternly.

Guilt hit Alec right in the stomach, as if someone punched it so hard that he would throw up on the spot. Magnus didn't utter a word to him even while they were already lying down on his bed. Magnus was lying on his side, his back was facing Alec. _He is clearly mad_, he thought. He sighed.

Alec wriggled his way nearer to Magnus's body. He wrapped an arm around Magnus's torso and pulled him close. He murmured over Magnus's shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Magnus turned and stared at Alec's shining blue eyes. His half-lidded eyes showed he was still irritated. He blurted, "That's it?"

Alec chuckled. He leaned his forehead on Magnus's and closed his eyes. He kissed him. The familiar taste of Magnus's lips on his made him think of the past that he once took him for granted but now he's everything to him. The kiss deepened as he felt Magnus pulling him as well, lifting his shirt and holding a small of his back. He groaned at the warlock's touch. He did the same to Magnus. Both of them were about to get naked when a horrible choking sound was heard through their wall and interfered their make-out session. Alec asked, "What was that?"

The choking sound continued. Magnus sat up and immediately slid out of the bed. Half-running towards the door as he straightened his pajama top, he took a glance at Alec and said, "We're not yet finished, young man."

Magnus disappeared behind the door, leaving Alec dumbfounded. The sound of footsteps slowly faded and another creaking sound of a door opening made Alec think what was happening. He thought, _Why would he go the neighbor's room? What is his business there?_ Alec remembered that Magnus was a _bisexual_, and he could have relationships with women and the proof of that was Camille Belcourt. But how was he sure that sound was coming from a woman? He had no idea. But the idea horrified him. His face went pale and he felt cold. He sank in their bed pulling the covers over him and tried to forget the thought. He never had a right to doubt Magnus. They have broken up once, he wouldn't want for that to happen again.

Hearing Magnus announcing that the party was over made her think it was her fault. Everybody was enjoying it, but just because of that damned boy she got all angry. She was like a silent volcano that suddenly erupted to life. She had never been so angry since the time she learned that her mother and sister were dead and her father wasn't there to protect them. She pushed down the thought. What was the use of blaming them when all of them were already gone, even _him_? She felt the back of her eyes sting. She was holding back tears. She began to run, not even minding the people she was bumping and not even sure if she was going the right way, with her eyes tightly closed.

She locked her room and plunged onto her bed, beginning to sob. She dug her face onto her soft pillow and gripped the sheets tightly that her knuckles were already white. She thought of the day that she lost everything she loved. Their faces flipped into her head as if she were skimming through a picture album; smiling, laughing, frowning, pouting, bleeding, and _dying_. She made a muffled scream through her pillow. She asked to herself painfully, _Why did all of you leave me? Why do I have to be alone? Why? Somebody answer me!_

_Always remember, you're not alone, Eleanor Ravencross. You still have me._

A voice echoed inside her head. It made her stop sobbing. It was familiar yet she wasn't sure where it came from. She pushed herself up and stared at her tear-stained pillow. She wiped her tears hastily off her cheeks. She looked around but no one was there except for her. But the voice gave back her strength. "I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be crying over the people that cannot come back to me. I shouldn't be crying over the dead. Crying is for the weak. I'm a child of the Ravencross. I _am_ a Ravencross."

She hopped off her bed and crouched to look for something under it. She groped and pulled out something black – a duffel bag, and zipped it open. She looked at it disappointingly – it was empty. She sighed and turned around to face her closet. She jogged her way to it and swung the doors open; she began plucking off her clothes from their hangers and flung them to the bed.

When she had already emptied the closet, she began fixing them and stuffed them in her bag respectively. She was already halfway in finishing her whole pile of clothes and her bag was still half full, when she felt like something from her stomach ran up to her throat. She immediately ran to her room's bathroom, yanking her bathroom door hastily that it hit the wall hard. Bile was already in her mouth. She gripped to the sides of her toilet and sunk her face on its opening and began to vomit.

She heard her unit door unlock, and this tall figure was immediately approaching her. She could see a pair of glowing gold-green eyes in the darkness of her room. And as the figure entered the bathroom, she could only see his baby blue-colored pajamas and his alien-designed slippers.

He sank into her side, rubbing her back. His tone worried, "Are you okay?"

Her face was pale and she looked very exhausted. She answered, "Do I look okay to you?" And her face went green, her cheeks puffed. She faced the toilet again and threw up once more.

He felt disgusted and worried at the same time. His tone was now like of a nagging mother, "How many bottles have you drunk now?"

"Ugh," she pushed herself away from the toilet and wiped her drool from her mouth. "No bottles today, just shots."

He rolled his eyes with disbelief. He dropped his hand back to his side and eventually crossing it over his chest. "How many _shots_ then?"

"Just _30_,"she answered. She looked up into the ceiling and started counting with her fingers, "Or was it 35? I can't remember."

"_Thirty_?" His hands dropped to his sides. There was mixture of horror and disbelief in his voice. "I told you to limit your drinking! I gave you limits remember? How could you forget that, you promised me! If only your father were alive—"

"Shut up!" She yelled at him angrily. Her normal color was back. "My dad is already dead, Bane! He _is_ dead! He has nothing to do with this!"

"I'm sorry—"

"_All_ of them are dead, Magnus Bane! And they're not coming back! They left me, Magnus! I'm all alone—" Upon realization on what she just said, she bit her lip. She felt weak again. She fell on Magnus's chest and began to sob. She had no right to yell at Magnus that way; he was always there for her ever since the start alongside with another warlock whom she loved dearly. "I'm sorry, Magnus. I didn't mean to yell at you that way. I'm so sorry."

She kept on apologizing to him. He let her wet his pajama with tears. He was the only one who knows and understands what she was going through right now. He hated to admit it, but he was already old – very old. He was an ancient warlock who had live for more than 800 years. He had been through this so many times; he had been burying his loved ones so many times now. He was supposed to be used to it by now, yet it still pained him. Compared to him, this girl was still young but all of she cared about died almost at the same time. She didn't deserve this. He wrapped his arms around her slender body with one hand over her head. He hugged her protectively, his head over hers. "It's all right, love. I'm here. Magnus is here." She smelled of champagne, vomit, and sweat. Magnus immediately pushed her away and covered his nose. "Geez, lady, are you and the shower having a lovers' quarrel? Take a bath, NOW!"

She laughed a little as she wiped her tears away, which made him glad. She was okay now. "Do I really stink?"

Magnus waved a hand to shoo her away, "Oh yes, you do!" He stood up and dusted off invisible dirt off his pajamas. He looked at her sternly, "Now go!"

She stood just right after him. She smiled at Magnus who raised a brow at her. She was very thankful that this eternal warlock had always been there. He never left. She turned around and held on to the hem of her cropped lace top. She was about to pull it up when she could still feel the presence of Magnus behind her. "Are you gonna watch me strip? Or you want to take a bath with me?"

He shook his head a little. He got a little too focused on her and didn't notice that she was about to strip. He looked at her with distaste. He said bluntly, "I'm not interested. And I'm sure Alexander is waiting for me in _our_ room. Alexander is way hotter than your girly body."

"Oh shut up, Magnus." Her top was already off her body and was already lying on the floor, revealing her leopard-print sports bra. She faced Magnus with her hands on the bare skin of her waist. She mocked, "My body is sexy. I'm sexy. Now go away and canoodle with your boyfriend. Or you really want to take a bath with the sexy me?"

Magnus covered his eyes. "Like what I said, I am not interested." He turned around and began to walk away. "I'm leaving. See you tomorrow, fatty."

"I am so not _fat_! I don't even have a belly! Look!" She patted her hard, flat abdomen. She frowned at Magnus who was already walking away.

"Whatever," he said simply as he closed the bathroom door behind him. She could hear him exit her room, locking her door in the process.

When she heard the final click of her door, she entered the shower. She bathed herself with warm soothing water. She had a little trouble at first. "Brrr…"_Too cold_, she thought. "Ouch!" _Too hot_. "Ah… perfect." She smiled. _Just right_.

He was on the verge of being so pissed that he would kill this Lightwood in front of everyone. She kept on asking what exactly happened. He had no interest in story-telling. He wasn't in the mood of being enthusiastic on what happened. But he kept silent. They were walking back to the Institute. It was a long way back; he could only hope this long walk would just end.

"So what _exactly_ happened? Tell me every single detail," Isabelle Lightwood urged.

His hand clenched into fists. "Would you just—"

"I supposed we can talk about this tomorrow, Izzy." It was Clary who spoke for him. "All of us are tired now. Well, technically, except for Simon, maybe?"

"Clary is right, Iz," Jace added. "You have the whole day to annoy him tomorrow."

"Very funny, Jace," Clary commented.

"Hmph!" Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest.

"Both of them are right, Izzy." The Daylighter held one shoulder of the female Lightwood. "We could just sleep this out."

Jonathan mumbled, "As if you need sleep." He felt a nudge on his rib. He stared at his sister who looked at him madly.

The walk was silent. No one spoke. They reached the Institute. The Daylighter and Clary were left outside. Jace bade farewell to his beloved with a kiss on the lips and one tight hug, while the female Lightwood hugged the Daylighter and also gave him a peck on the lips. The Daylighter was prohibited to enter the holy grounds of the Institute while his sister was going home to her stepfather's house. Jonathan rolled his eyes with disgust.

With witchlight torches lit up, they strode their way along the hallway to the elevator. As they reached it, it opened by itself and welcomed them in. The three of them went in and Jace stabbed the floor button with his index finger. And the elevator screeched its way up to the third floor. When it already reached the destined floor, its mouth opened revealing the original female Lightwood where Isabelle Lightwood was copied – Maryse Lightwood.

She stared at them accusingly with her half-lidded eyes. She asked, "Where have you been? Where is Alexander?"

"Hi mom," Isabelle gulped guiltily.

Jace said simply, "Alec is with Magnus."

"I see," she answered. She didn't have the need to ask more. She, then, averted her attention to Jonathan who was behind the Herondale and the Lightwood. She stared at him from his foot to his face. "You look like you got in a little trouble, what happened?"

"Nothing," he answered defiantly.

She raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to tell something to him but closed it again knowing that it would be no use. This monster wouldn't listen to her anyway. She returned her attention to Jace, "Go to bed now, it's late. Tell Alexander that I'm leaving for Idris, tonight."

"What are you going to do in Idris?" It was Isabelle who asked.

"I have matters to attend to," she answered. "And it is connected to the Enclave. They want to talk to me."

"About what?" Jace went in the conversation.

"They didn't give me the details," her voice signaled that the conversation was over. The three left the elevator and it was Maryse's turn to enter. The elevator door closed and the car slid down.

It was Jace who spoke first, "Let's go to bed. I'll just text Alec."

"Okay," Isabelle answered.

Jonathan just leaned at the wall, looking at Jace who was sending out orders. He pushed himself back up and left for his room. All of them went to their respective rooms.

He locked the door behind him and stared into his room. Clothes were strewn all over the place and a silver box with his initials _J. C._ engraved on it laid on the center of his bed. He sighed. He never felt so tired, just now. And he's irritated with the thought. He went to his bed and pushed away all of the clothes that were placed on it, letting them fall to the floor. He sat on his black-colored bed and clasped into his large callused hands the silver box that Jocelyn held on dear that always reminded her of him – her monster son and what he could have been if ever his father never experimented on him in the first place.

He set it aside gingerly on his side table and slumped on his bed with his hands on the back of his head. He stared at the ceiling. There was something peculiar about it, instead of the usual plain white ceiling; he could see an image of a woman. She had this lace see-through top that was cut a few inches below her breasts, revealing a little her dark-colored bra some part of her bare skin of her abdomen, pair of jeans, and glinting silver tube harnessed on her thigh. Her hair was as brown as chestnuts and her eyes; they had the glow of the moonlight. _Gorgeous_, he thought. Upon realizing of what he thought, he shook his head rashly throwing away the thought. He turned to his side and closed his eyes, but it made it worse. Her image became clearer. She stared at him in horror, the same eyes that his mother would wear when she looked at him. _Murderer. Killer. Monster. DEMON. _He opened his eyes and stared at the wall with hate.

He remembered what his father said, "_Nothing can make her love you, J. Only _I_ love you. Only I can love a _monster_. Do you understand?_"

He muttered to himself, "Yes." His heart hardened because of what his father told him. Only _he_ could love him, not even his sister would be able to really love him. Only him, only _Valentine Morgenstern_.

He closed his eyes again, carving the words that his father told him on his brain. But an image of her was plastered on the back of his eyelids. He could still see her. It was a different image now. It was the image of her dancing, the image of her when he first got his gaze on her; her hands up in the air, her hair whipped from side to side, and her hips swayed with the music. _I want her_, he thought. And then again, he opened his eyes. He was now frustrated. Why was he thinking of her? Why did he see her even with his eyes closed? He sat up and faced the wall where the head of his bed leaned. He threw a killer punch at the wall that he knew that would just shudder. His hand ached, yet the pain didn't help. His thought of her didn't fade away. He then hit his head to the wall several times, but it was still no use. Blood trickled down from his forehead towards his lips. He licked his own blood; the taste of iron didn't trigger him in killing like what it could do before. He stared absent-mindedly at his hands. _What the fuck is this? Is this what they call _attraction_? No, there must be some kind of warlock magic at work. I couldn't be attracted to some random _Nephilim_ woman. I'm sure she knows the answer to this._ He balled his hands into fists._ I need to have her. I _have_ to have her. She better know the answer to this shit or else I'll kill her._ He remembered that the gay warlock mentioned her name. Her name was _Eleanor_. He finished, _I'll have you Eleanor, just watch me._

* * *

**A/N: 1 follower...? I could work with that, besides, everything starts with only one. I'll just keep believing my works! So, how's this one? Did you like it? Love it even? Feel free to tell me. I also like to hear your opinions about how this fan fiction is written. I _totally_ accept constructive criticisms. Don't be scared, I won't bite. I love you all! Happy reading! xx**


	3. He's Dangerous

**DISCLAIMER: Hello ladies and gents! I am back and still not Cassandra Clare! You know how this goes, right? So no more explanations.**

* * *

**Three**

**He's Dangerous**

Eleanor woke up earlier that she expected; her phone's alarm has not yet rung. She groped for her phone under her pillow and stared at the time. It was 3:37 in the morning. She closed her eyes again, waiting for sleep to come. She tossed and turned, finding the right position for sleeping, but in the end sleep never came. She stared at her baby blue-colored ceiling. _This was too early_, she was used to wake up around 4:45 AM but it seems no matter what position she does she still could not sleep.

She slid out her bed and started fixing it up. Her eyes happened to wander sideways and she saw her unfinished business. Her duffel bag was still half-full, she put it aside with her unfolded clothes last night after she took a shower and went to sleep. When she was already satisfied with the neatness of her bed, everything was straight, none was seen crooked, she went straight to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. She went out the bathroom, with her body all freshened up and all geared up as well. She was in all black with her elongating staff harnessed on her thigh and a long seraph blade on her waist. She walked towards the bag and picked it up along with her unfolded clothes. She slowly laid them on her bed – so much for her neat-freak attitude – and continued to fold them one by one and put them gingerly in her bag. After finishing it, she zipped the bag close and went to the mahogany desk on the left side of her bed. She slowly slid her metal-legged chair, trying not to wake anyone, and sat. She lit the desk lamp on the upper left corner of the table and pulled the drawer under the table top. She searched the contents of the drawer, and after a few moments she pulled out a parchment along with a pen and began to scribble.

Once finished, she fumbled for an adhesive and grabbed her duffel bag hastily, heading to the door. She slowly creaked her door open and looked sideways, making sure no one was awake other than her. She pulled out a white slender stick that bore Marks like the ones inked on her body from one of her bag's pockets, and began to draw a soundless rune on her boots to maintain silence and not to wake anyone in the apartment. She also closed her door slowly and silently, taking out a grey stone that glowed, called the witchlight, as she opened her hand. At first she panicked for the light was too bright and might blow up her cover, but she slowly encaged the stone and the light dimmed – enough to light her path. She walked up to her neighbor's door and attached the parchment she wrote on a while ago.

Before leaving her neighbor's door, she touched the door and made this weak smile as she stroked its surface as if bidding it goodbye. She planted her forehead on its surface and muttered soft words under her breath. After a few moments, she pushed herself back, still smiling at the door. She made this final nod and fleeted away, disappearing in the darkness of the hallway with this dim light guiding her way like a will o' wisp being followed by a hunter.

"You didn't wait for me." Alec slowly opened his eyes and blinked. At first it was blurry, but as few more moments passed his vision became clear. He saw a pair of gold-green cat eyes staring at his blue ones. He groaned and pushed himself up, with his right hand carrying all of his upper body's weight, while his left scratched his eyes. He then stretched out, yawning in the process and not even bothering to look at the person who was still lying down on the bed.

He said simply, "Good morning, Magnus."

Alec felt the bed sink and rise up again, almost losing his balance in the process. Magnus had his face inches from Alec's, invading his personal space. He stared at Alec with disappointed eyes and a frown forming on his lips. He scolded, "I told you to wait for me, Alexander."

Alec scratched his ruffled morning hair and answered, "I was waiting for you, but my eyes were closing. So I fell asleep."

He saw Magnus's eye twitch in irritation. Magnus sighed and slid out of the bed. "I'm going to make breakfast—"

Alec immediately grabbed Magnus's forearm and pulled him back to the bed, topping over him. Alec stared at Magnus's disappointed face and smiled weakly at him. He let go of Magnus's forearm and cupped his beloved boyfriend's face. "I promise you, I waited. I just fell asleep."

"I know you're not lying," Magnus muttered. "But you should have at least fought your exhaustion, right?"

Alec chuckled, "I couldn't help it. Sorry."

Magnus frowned.

Alec chuckled again and leaned himself to Magnus.

Magnus caught Alec's head and pulled him towards himself. The gap between their faces disappeared in a flash. Their lips met in cotton-candy like kiss, soft and sweet, which melted in the mouth. Magnus smiled between kisses and teased Alec, making Alec put pressure on the kiss. The pressure ignited a sudden spark and soon, the kiss became hotter and rougher than the first. He clutched on Alec's soft, jet black hair, giving the kiss a little more pressure, and then bit his lip.

Alec gasped in pain, and then his partner took advantage of it and entered his mouth. Their tongues fought for dominance, Alec was nearly losing but didn't fret. He fought against the warlock's dominance and eventually won, hearing Magnus moan in pleasure. Alec began unbuttoning Magnus's top, almost tearing it apart due to impatience.

Magnus, on the other hand, pulled Alec's shirt off him and throwing it aside. He began to run his fingers down Alec's back, scratching him in the process. He left red traces on Alec's pale, muscular back.

Alec didn't mind the lines of pain running through his back, he actually loved this. The touch of the warlock turned him on. He, then, finally finished unbuttoning Magnus's pajama top and began to plant light kisses on him. He started on the warlock's jawline, then the neck, collarbone, chest, and then down to his bellybutton free abdomen – licking him here and there as well.

Magnus felt ticklish on the soft touch of Alec's lips and the rough texture of his tongue. He felt hot on every part where the teenage Nephilim planted his kisses, like they were imprinted on his skin.

Alec's hand rubbed Magnus's abdomen and slowly slid in the garter of his pants. But before his hand continue to explore what's within that garter; he stared at Magnus for reassurance.

Magnus just nodded. Alec slid his hand in and then heard this muffled buzzing noise. Alec stopped, and suddenly turned into a Doberman with its ears straight up as if sensing danger.

The muffled buzz continued, Alec listened to where it was coming from. He stood up and followed the buzzing sound; it was coming from under his pillow. He knew what was beneath that pillow – his phone. He sighed, exasperated.

"You can leave it alone, you know?" Magnus suggested. "Let them call all they want until they give up."

"I'm sorry Magnus, it might be my mom," Alec smiled weakly. He flipped his pillow off the phone and picked it up. He stared at it and regretted he even stood. It was not his mom, but his sister – Isabelle Lightwood. He pressed the answer button. He asked annoyingly, "What?"

"_Did I bother you and Magnus?_" Isabelle asked playfully.

"What do you want?" He was irritated.

"_Alec, trouble,_" Isabelle's voice became urgent.

Alec became nervous. What happened while he was gone? "Is there any problem, Iz?"

"_Sebastian is missing,_" Isabelle stated.

"What?" Alec exclaimed. "How did he—how did you not notice? Where's mom? Does she know?"

"_Mom is not here Alec_. _Didn't you receive Jace's text? She left for Idris last night,_" Isabelle's voice was weak and hopeless. "_Jace and I didn't notice until this morning. We searched all over the Institute. Until we found out he jumped off his window._"

"Where are you?" Alec asked. "Where is Jace?"

"_Jace is out scouring the city, he's going to Clary's place to ask for help from Luke's pack,_" Isabelle said. "_Jace told me to stay here in the Institute and wait for Sebastian's return. He said he was sure that Sebastian had a reason for leaving. I get his point but Alec he's dangerous._"

"I know, Izzy, I know." Alec tried to comfort Isabelle. "I'll come home. Wait for me okay? I'm cutting off now."

"_Okay,_" Isabelle answered simply.

Alec then pressed the end call button and looked at his phone, tensed.

"Is everything all right, Alexander?" Alec already forgot Magnus was there. His shirt was back on. Magnus knew by Alec's body language, there was something up and it's not good. "What happened?"

Alec clutched his phone, as if attempting to crush it. He was mad at himself. He muttered, "Sebastian's missing. He left the Institute without Jace and Isabelle noticing. And mom is not there to help."

Magnus felt shaken. The murderer disappeared, and not even noticed. "Where's your mother? She's supposed to be in the Institute, right? Why did she leave?"

"She went off to Idris," Alec said, still staring at his phone. "And my guess is Sebastian disappeared after mom left and while Jace and Isabelle were sleeping. I wasn't able to ask why my mom left, but I'm sure it's urgent since she's going to Idris." Alec looked at Magnus. "But the real question is why would he leave the Institute? He already stayed there for a few months now without any attempt of leaving."

"He wants you to trust him first before he plans his escape," Magnus hypothesized.

"Maybe, you're right," Alec agreed. "By the Angel, why were we so blind?"

Magnus approached Alec and rubbed his back, comforting his beloved. "It's not your fault, he just outwitted you."

"Exactly," Alec exclaimed. "He outwitted _us_! He made us believe that he can be trusted now that he has the cursed Mark! And he swore an oath that he won't leave the Institute without any significant reasons!"

"Significant reasons?" Magnus looked at Alec questioningly. "What kind of significant reasons are you saying?"

"I don't know," Alec said. "As long as it doesn't involve hurting anyone; Downworlder, Nephilim, and mundane, I mean. Do you think you know how to track him? You know, since you were one of the people who put that Mark on his nape."

"I don't think so," Magnus answered. "But I'll try." He went to his desk and started to look into his books and papers. "Go back to the Institute, Alexander. Your sister needs you."

Alec just nodded. He began to gather up his things. After this, he immediately went to the bathroom to clean up and change. Alec was trying to act fast; this was not a mere joke. They were caught off-guard by the greatest killer of all beings.

After taking the short bath, Alec rushed to put in his clothes even with his hair still dripping wet. He picked up his things as he dried his hair. He looked at Magnus who started working on tracing the criminal. He smiled. He's helping them again, all because of him. Sometimes, he thought that he was a great burden for Magnus. Sometimes, he thought if only he hadn't met Magnus he wouldn't be stressed like this. But if they did not meet, what will happen to him? And then he remembered when Clary first entered the Institute and Jace was very into her even at first glance. If they didn't meet Magnus, he would suffer the fact that the one he once loved was in love with another and not even knowing his true feelings about him. Alec shook his head; he couldn't imagine a life without Magnus now. He was attached to this warlock ever since he realized that there was no chance that Jace would return his feelings. This warlock, that had been there for him ever since, was now as special as a precious gemstone. _No, he's more than that. He's my world_, Alec thought to himself.

He approached the warlock, and planted his hand on his shoulder. The warlock didn't even bother to look at him. Alec leaned and pecked Magnus's cheek. He whispered, "I'm going now. Stay safe."

"You stay safe," Magnus answered without averting his attention from the papers scattered on his desk.

Alec backed away and headed to the door. He twisted the knob and opened the door. And then he saw this parchment attached on the other side of Magnus's door. He skimmed the letter and saw a _girl's name_. He called, "Magnus."

Magnus rose from his seat. He scolded, "Alexander, I told you to go back to the Institute—what is that you are holding?"

"It's for you," Alec offered the paper to Magnus.

Magnus reached for the parchment, snatching it from Alec's hand, and read its contents. His color faded. Magnus felt cold. His hand began shaking. He knew this swirling handwriting anywhere.

_Magnus Dearest,_

_Sorry if it is all so sudden, but I have to leave. I'm going back to London. I already asked for help from another warlock. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I need to meet with the Enclave's head today._

_I just want to thank you for letting me stay. I owe you a lot. I know I have been a great bother yesterday, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I swear by the Angel that I'll be all right. I just got some things that are needed to be taken care of immediately. I'll contact you as soon as I finish all of this._

_Love lots,_

_El xx_

Alec asked, "Who is _El_?"

There was no answer from Magnus. He fell silent, staring at the letter.

Alec's stomach churned. He held Magnus shoulders and shook him. He insisted, "Who is El?"

Magnus stared at Alec with blank eyes. His expression was unreadable.

Alec was petrified on Magnus's expression. His voice was calmer now. One of his hands cupped Magnus's face and ran his thumb on Magnus's cheek. "Tell me, Magnus, who is El?"

"_Eleanor_," was all Magnus said.

"Magnus, what will happen to Eleanor?" Alec asked.

"I don't know, she said she was going to London—," the warlock muttered. And it hit him, "Oh no. Please no." Magnus immediately ran back to his desk and returned to his study. He kept muttering, "God no, please no."

Alec started to get worried. He followed Magnus and asked, "What is it Magnus?"

Magnus whipped his head towards Alec, "Go back to the Institute immediately, help Jace look for Sebastian."

"Magnus, what's the problem? Tell me—"

"Go now, Alexander, please!" Magnus begged.

Alec hesitated but he did as he was asked. Alec began running out of the apartment, leaving Magnus in his study.

He stared at the male Lightwood from the roof as he ran away from the apartment of the warlock. They already knew that he was gone. He made sure that he wasn't noticed by the people present in the Institute, and it seemed that it worked for it was too late. He was already at the place he was destined to go. A wry smile crept up his face; they didn't really need to look for him. All he needed was the warlock, he needed to know something, and this something was the reason why he left the Institute stealthily. _No, it's not something. It's _someone, he said to himself.

When he was sure that the male Lightwood was not coming back, he climbed down to the warlock's window. He sat on his pane and knocked on the glass, with his face staring at the warlock boringly. He was able to get the attention of the warlock, who looked at him warily.

The warlock approached the window, opening it and letting him enter. He asked defiantly, "What do you want? And what were you doing on my roof? How long have you been there? Why did you leave the Institute? What is your purpose here?"

"Whoa, there, take it easy, warlock." He raised his hands as if in a surrender. "One question at a time, I only have one mouth you know?" He took out a blade from his side and started to play with its sharp edges. "Anyway, how's your sex life going on? I could hear your groan from up there."

_He heard that?_ Magnus thought, he was supposed to blush yet he knew he mustn't. This person has something deadly in mind, he knew it. Magnus stared at him, watching his every move.

Jonathan sighed. He returned his blade to its sheath and stated, "I came here to look for answers."

"What answers?"

"It's about the magic you placed onto me." He leaned his back onto the wall and played with the Morgenstern ring that was wrapped around his right ring finger.

"What magic?"

He looked at Magnus with pity. "Aww, c'mon Bane. I'm not in the mood for games right now. Just tell me how to take this magic off and everything will be fine."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Magnus gulped. "I didn't use magic."

"Really?" Jonathan picked up the pen that Magnus was using a while ago and began to examine it, playing with it along his fingers as well. "Then explain to me, why is she on my mind?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Oh, please, warlock. Don't play dumb with me," Jonathan scoffed. "I'm talking about this _Eleanor_ girl."

_I knew it_, Magnus thought. His body tensed. She was in danger. "What do you want with Eleanor?"

In a flash, Jonathan was gone from where he was standing. Magnus crouched and began to use his magic. And then, something grasped Magnus's throat, bringing his body along. Magnus's body crashed to the wall, he was being strangled by Jonathan, who looked at him with rage. He dictated slowly, "Let me ask the question again, why is she on my mind?"

Magnus tried to gulp, but Jonathan's hands hindered him to do so. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Jonathan gritted his teeth. He pulled Magnus by the neck and crashed his head back to the wall. "I said don't play with me!"

Magnus cried in pain. He wasn't able to respond.

Jonathan repeated the act. And asked again, "It's a very, very simple question, warlock. Do you want me to crush your head?"

"You know I'm immortal, right?" Blood trickled from Magnus's head to his cheeks and then to his chin.

"Immortal!" He spat, "Bullshit!"

Magnus chuckled. "I'm telling the truth, demon. I do not know anything about what you are talking about."

Jonathan's jaw hardened. He paused but still strangling Magnus, who was gasping for air.

Magnus mocked, "Now what, Sebastian? Got no more questions?"

"Shut up," he hissed. And then it struck him. "I have one more question, warlock."

Magnus stared at him warily. He did not answer. He just closed his eyes and prayed, _Please, no, have mercy on her! She's just a _child_! She's all that's left. Please, _God_!_

"Where is she?" Jonathan asked. "Where can I find Eleanor? Tell me, warlock. I'll spare you and your loved ones' life."

_Alexander_, Magnus thought. _He's going to hurt my Alexander._ "You do know that your sister is one of them, right?"

"I can kill my sister without even thinking twice, and you know that, especially your beloved Alexander Lightwood," Jonathan smirked. He knew that the warlock was shaken because of his threat. "You just have to tell me where she is and everything will be okay; the male Lightwood will live a long _aging_ life."

"Monster," Magnus hissed.

"Then what do you call yourself, Downworlder?" Jonathan mocked. He tightened his grip on Magnus's neck, trying to break his neck and have a hold on his windpipe.

Magnus struggled his way to be released from this monster. He tried to use his magic but the grip onto his throat tightened bit by bit that he could hardly breathe and he couldn't concentrate on his powers. And then he heard this hissing sound coming from Jonathan's neck, as if something was burning.

_Fuck! This again_, Jonathan thought. The burning sensation gradually grew. He couldn't take it anymore. His grip on the warlock's neck loosened. He held onto his neck and yelped in pain. He began to back away. He stared at Magnus with his killer eyes. "You're lucky that _this_ curse you laid on me works pretty well. If only this never existed, I would've sliced your body in half in 5 seconds." He turned his back at the warlock and started to run towards the open window. He plummeted himself out of the window with his right hand and his left clutching his nape. He dove to the ground and rolled in the process so that he won't get hurt; still his left hand clutched his nape. The pain wouldn't go away that easily. He stood up and jogged his way away from the loft.

Jonathan started to walk on the busy streets of New York, disgusted at the mundanes he had been seeing all around him. He didn't know where to go now that he knew that that warlock wouldn't be much use to him in finding _her_. It would be a waste to just go back to the Institute without him doing something to get what he wanted. He knew that warlock wouldn't help, but not to the extent that he was willing to risk Jonathan's sister's life for the sake of keeping that woman away from him. That warlock sure did know his weakness, he couldn't risk on killing his own sister. He lied at the fact that he could kill her, but he knew in his gut that he couldn't. It was obvious; this warlock was protecting the girl – protecting her from him. But what was so special about this girl that made that warlock protect her? And also made him drawn to her? He didn't know, but he knew that he hated the feeling; it had the feeling of something in his stomach, something so alien that he wanted to vomit it all out, or just slice his abdomen open and take it out himself whatever it was. And in just a flick, he saw a woman that bore no whites in her eyes, just plain amber orbs – a _fey_. He walked briskly towards her and she seemed to notice his murderous aura that she started to run. Luckily, he didn't put down his glamour, thus, no one saw him running after the fey.

He caught her under his arm and dragged her into one of the nearby alleys. He swung her to the pile of garbage within the alley. He stared her down grimly, not even caring if she was hurt or not.

The young female fey spat, "What do you want, Jonathan Morgenstern?"

He said plainly, "I need you to take me to your Queen."

"My Queen doesn't want your visits," the fey answered angrily.

"I am not paying her a visit," he started. "I'm in a grave need to talk to her about something."

"You just want to go there because you need her in your dirty games—"

He lifted her up by the neck and gritted his teeth. "If you savor your dear life, you would take me to your Queen, whether you like it or not."

"All… alright," she choked. He put her down and let go of her choking neck. She coughed, "I'll bring you to her."

"Good."

They immediately went to the nearest park in Brooklyn – the Prospect Park. And with haste, they entered the passageway towards the Queen's court within the bushes there. He knew that they were underground for the zipping cars and talking mundanes were already muffled. He followed the amber-eyed fey in front of him. He already threatened her countless of times when he felt she was going to fool him. And then finally, he knew by the bright lights that they were already here. He, then, saw her. She seated comfortably on her throne with her ever-so famous knight, Meliorn.

"Seelie Queen," he bowed respectively but still wore a serious face. "Well met."

"Ah, what brings the infamous Valentine's son here in my humble abode?" the Seelie Queen smiled.

"I need something—"

"Ah, yes, of course," She answered abruptly. "You are looking for a Nephilim named Eleanor, aren't you?"

"Yes, and I want you to—"

"Help you look for her," the Queen finished Jonathan's sentence. "You know that there's a price when you ask a favor from me, Valentine's spawn. Are you willing to pay the price?"

Knowing that this woman had plans, even before he even entered the place he wouldn't want to risk anything right now since he had nothing to pay her. And the curse that was inflicted upon his nape wouldn't give him any chance to kill anything or anyone. "Never mind, I'll find her myself." He turned his back on her and began to walk away.

"Oh what a waste, you just tired yourself in going here?" She smiled. "Or you just wanted to see the woman who was also there for you aside from your mother, Lilith?"

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Like what I said, never mind. I can find her myself without your help."

"Very well," the Queen spoke. He didn't even bother to look at her this time. "I hope you'll understand that one day she'll be just by your doorstep, even without you looking for her."

"Thanks for the advice, I don't really need it," he said.

"It's not an advice, it's the truth."

"I don't care." He was aided by the amber-eyed faerie on his way out of the court.

As he left the Seelie Court, he wandered again and thought about a way to look for her without making deals with others. He didn't have time for deals right now. He needed to find her as soon as possible. But he had one last choice, and that's by using a demon. He looked up in the sky, he had lost track of time. It was already dark out, perfect for demon hunting.

He started his hunt in alleys were it was usually dark and no one was there to even try to go in for they were scared that something just pull them in and kill them. Well, that's what demons do, that was their nature. But he was not afraid, of course he wasn't; he had demon blood himself. He carved a night vision rune on his forearm and then he began to see clearly in the dark, not that he wasn't used in the darkness. He just wanted to make sure that he would see a demon present in there, and _bingo!_ He saw a cluster of eyes and these green drool coming out of its mouth – a _ravener demon_. _Perfect_, he thought. He pulled out a clear blade, the seraph blade, out of its sheath that slung on his waist. He called out, "_Enael_." The blade shone and caught the attention of the demon. The demon whipped its attention to Jonathan, making hissing sounds as if trying to scare away Jonathan. All it knew that it was against a Shadowhunter and when it was about to lunge at him, it just realized who it was against with. It paused and made this whimpering sound, as if a dog was kicked right in the stomach.

"Good," Jonathan smirked. "You know who I am."

"_Jonathan Morgenstern_," it hissed. "_Valentine Morgenstern's son._ _Child of Mother Lilith_."

"Good for you, you still know who I am," he stated. He face was dark, and smiled at the demon grimly. "I want you to do something for me."

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**A/N: UGH! MALEC FEELSSS! Evil Jonathan is EVIL! Magnus fans, I'm terribly sorry for what I did to Magnus. Was I too brutal? Well, that's Jonathan's nature, isn't it? So, what do you think about this chapter? I'd love to see your constructive criticism. Happy reading! Love you all! xx**


	4. His Helen of Troy

**DISCLAIMER: Hello my gorgeous readers! I know it has been a long time since I updated, but still I AM NOT CASSANDRA CLARE! In other words, I do not own the Shadowhunter Chronicles, but I do own the idea of this fan fiction and the new characters.**

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**Four**

**His Helen of Troy**

Magnus felt a pair of warm hands on his own. They were warm, soft, relaxing, yet they feel so, so _familiar_. Slowly, he opened his eyes; he felt as if cobwebs were keeping them from opening. His vision was a blur and he couldn't make out that bright circle glaring down at him – it was blinding him. Slowly this head peered up on top of him, he still couldn't make out who it was but he was sure this was the person holding his hand. He pushed himself up with his free hand and eventually clutched the back of his head.

"Hey, don't get up, lie down," It was Alec. He knew it. Alec slowly pushed him down back to his lying position. "Just rest, you need it. Don't push yourself."

Magnus didn't want to lie down again, so he held Alec's wrist and pushed himself up. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine; my head just aches a little because of all the banging a while ago," he muttered as he scratched his eyes. Eventually, his vision came back, and Alec's features were like high definition. He smiled, "Thank you for lending your strength, by the way, I always need it."

With a startled expression upon his face, Alec seated himself back at the stool that was just next to Magnus's bed. "Banging? Why? What happened to you while I was gone? Who banged you?"

"Calm down now, Alec—"

"You expect me to calm down?" Alec suddenly shot up from his seat; his voice was rising. "I called you so many times and you didn't answer. I was worried that something happened to you, and something did. I ran back here to check if you're okay, and I suddenly see you there lying unconscious. And you still expect me to calm down, when somebody banged you on that wall?"

The warlock sighed, "Relax, I'll explain. Just calm down and clear your head, you won't understand a word that I'll say when you're all enraged."

The young Nephilim seated himself back on the stool staring away from Magnus with a frown etched on his face; his brows furrowed together.

"Now," the older boy started. "Right after you left, Sebastian showed up on my window sill."

"Sebastian?" Alec whipped his face back at Magnus with shock that he began jumbling questions together. "How'd he—why would he—what does he want from you?"

"Shh," Magnus placed his index finger on Alec's lips. "Let me finish." Alec tried to speak, but knowing Magnus, he kept his mouth shut to let his beloved explain everything.

Magnus re-enacted what happened while Alec was gone. He saw Alec's color fade as minutes passed by, it began to turn redder and redder than before as he explained the conclusion of what happened while he was gone. He knew that Alec was going to erupt any time now that he finally concluded the story.

Alec clutched on the sheets, restraining his rage. _Why would he have to do that to Magnus? He nearly _killed_ him_, he thought. Alec gritted his teeth with anger and frustration, why could he be so stupid and left Magnus all alone in this apartment? He was perfectly aware that he couldn't stand a chance against Sebastian but still, Alec could've protected him.

Alec started to hit himself, muttering how stupid he was for leaving Magnus alone. Magnus immediately held on to Alec's hands. Alec's eyes were tightly shut; he knew he was fighting back tears. Magnus could read Alec like an open book; he could tell he was blaming himself on what happened to him. "It's not your fault, Alec," Magnus tried to calm him down. "I told you to go back to Isabelle, and you did what you're told. I did this to myself; I was supposed to fight back—"

"That's my point," Alec exclaimed. Teary-eyed, he stared at Magnus and cried, "If only I didn't listen to you and stayed, I would've protected you from that monster! I would've at least held him back so you can run to somewhere safe! I would have kept you safe!"

Magnus smiled weakly at Alec. He cupped Alec's face and began to rub his cheek with his thumb, pushing away the salty tears falling from his boyfriend's face. "Alec, I know you want to protect me, but that's useless. I can protect myself, but it just so happens that I left my guard down. And you, you are obliged to find him because you and your family are in charge of keeping an eye on him. None of this is your fault because you don't even know that he would be going here, so don't blame yourself."

Alec hastily wiped his tears like a kid and told Magnus, "If only I told Clary and Jace to leave him in the Institute yesterday, this wouldn't happen."

"Here you go again, blaming yourself. How many times do I have to tell you not to blame yourself? He is impulsive, we don't know what his intentions are," Magnus comforted. "I didn't expect him to look for _her_, in the first place."

Alec stared at his boyfriend sadly. And, all of the sudden, a question popped into his head all of a sudden. He asked, "Why would he think that you would place a spell on him? Why would he connect that spell to Eleanor?"

Magnus shrugged. "I don't know, but I would never do something like that." He added, "Nevertheless, I want to play tricks on him."

Upon hearing the statement, a frown instantly formed on Alec's face.

"But seriously, I won't do that, especially when it involves Eleanor. I won't play tricks on her," Magnus stated. "I've been protecting Eleanor since her family was gone, I won't just put her into trouble just like that."

"Who is this Eleanor, anyway?" Alec asked. "You seem to give great importance in her well-being. What is she to you?"

"Alec, we are _not_ going through this conversation again—"

"No," Alec scratched his head. "That's not what I meant. I'm not jealous or anything, it's just what's with her that you seem so close to her. I thought you kept your distance from our kind a long time ago, excluding the fact that you helped Jocelyn block Clary's memories. It's just, she seems so important that all _hell_ will break loose when she gets hurt."

"It's a long story—"

"I insist you to tell me," Alec said. "I don't want you hiding something from me. I can help you with this. She's one of my kind, Magnus. A Shadowhunter is to help his or her own kin as well in any way he or she can. I can help her, just tell me the problem, we'll figure this one out."

"Alexander, it's not a problem," Magnus told him. "It's a promise."

"What promise? To whom do you promise?"

Magnus sighed, "I can't tell you anything about this."

"But Magnus, how can I help you if you won't give me any detail about this _promise_?" Alec held onto Magnus's wrist, looking so desperate. "I can't read minds, you know?"

"You'll know in time," Magnus closed his eyes and laid his free hand on Alec's. "Today is just not the right time."

"Then when will be the right time?" Alec asked; his voice growing impatient.

Magnus shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

Waiting was doing a great job at eating her patience away.

She already knocked several times buzzed the doorbell even, but still there was no answer. She clutched onto her leather-covered arms due to the cold. It was already night time when she arrived here in front of what seemed to be like of a rickety old house that had broken wooden window sills, or the mundanes might say, a haunted house which was filled with ghosts and stuff like that. _Well, ghosts do exist_, she shrugged. What she couldn't understand was that a warlock lived under this crumbling place. She knew that warlocks usually have loads of money and live in grand mansions or billion-dollar condominiums, but this was a total understatement. She didn't know that this warlock she talked to had poor taste of choosing houses.

She sighed and knocked once more, but as her knuckles neared the termite-infested wooden door, it creaked open. She let out an exasperated sigh of relief. She raised her hands up in the air and let them fall abruptly onto her lap. "You finally considered that I'm in a bloody hurry!"

Walking inside the house, all she could see was _black_. There was not even single spark of light to be seen. The door thundered shut behind her, making her heart skip a beat and whirl around to its direction. Her eyes wandered from her side to the other, the hair on her nape prickled. _There's something wrong_. As a Shadowhunter, she knew the different presences of different creatures; one thing was clear, there was no warlock presence anywhere. She thought that there were loads of snakes around her because of the hissing and slithering sounds, until these sounds where accompanied with whipping sounds. She tried to keep her cool and acted like there was nothing going on. Lifting the strap of her duffel bag off her shoulder, she let it slide to her side and rest on the creaking wooden floor below her.

"You know, Balian, you could at least use some lighting here." Her right hand slowly crawled to her left, feeling the hilt of her weapon. She drummed her fingers on the hilt slowly and grabbed it, gripping it tightly as she could. "Here, I could help you with that problem." Within a flash, she drew out her seraph blade and belted, "_Nahiel_."

The blade shone as bright as the sun, lighting up the whole room. _Ravener_ demons surrounded her at all directions. The demons slithered backward and lowered themselves, indicating that they were about to attack. _One, two, three, four…_ She counted them mentally as her eyes wandered to look at them one by one, _five, six, seve—_and then one of them lunged for her side while she wasn't looking.

Her sharp reflexes didn't fail her. She was able to immediately slash the demon with her blade effortlessly. The demon's body squirted this thick, black, gooey liquid – demon ichor, from where she cut it and fell to one side of the room. Its dead body gurgled and slowly diminished, leaving only its bubbling black blood. She whined, "Aw c'mon! I was just counting you guys!"

And then came two demons from her both sides. Her eyes roamed from side to side and were able to see the two. She crouched a little and jumped upward, somersaulting in the air. The two demons weren't able to change their direction and crashed onto each other. She sliced them the all in one go as she landed on her feet like a cat which jumped from a tree branch to the ground.

After she released her blade from the gurgling and diminishing bodies of the two _ravener_ demons, she whipped it to remove the demon ichor from it without wiping it clean. Her forehead scrunched up and her eyebrows furrowed, she glared at the demons, completely irritated. "Alright, that's just it! You gave me no respect, no respect at all! You guys could've at least bloody considered that I'm making a bloody count off! No more Ms. Good Shadowhunter!"

As soon as she said her statement, the other _ravener_ demons lunged at her altogether. When she slashed one, another one came dashing to her to replace the one she killed. They were plenty, that's what she was sure of but she didn't mind anymore. She had this ringing sensation in her ears as if she couldn't hear anything anymore. Her enemies came down to her very slow. No. They weren't slow. This was the normal attacking speed of these demons. _She was fast_. She tried her best not to have contact with any demon ichor, and luckily not a single drop had touched her _yet_.

Demon bodies were scattered all around her. Black ichor mixed with green poisonous drool created puddles around her, staining the old creaking wooden floor. There was a chorus of gurgling and hissing sounds that echoed the whole room. _They're all dead_, she sighed in relief.

There was a continuous thudding sound coming from the northern part of the house. Lea was still on attack mode as she slowly walked towards the sound, tiptoeing over the demon ichor and poisonous drool. A large chest box sat beside the unlit fireplace. She tilted her head, curious about what was in that large chest. It was like any other treasure chest, as mundanes may have called it, which could be seen in pirate stories. It was so large that a _person_ might have had fitted in it. The thuds continued, making the chest shudder due to the strong impacts done by the content of the chest. Lea took out her stele and seraph blade on the other, and knelt towards the keyhole. She drew an Opening rune on the chest's keyhole and the lid flung open. She was ready to strike the living creature inside the box when she saw who she was looking for a while ago.

She stared at him with her left brow raised; her seraph blade was still in mid-air, ready to attack whenever she needed it. But she didn't need to thrust this blade to his heart for he wouldn't die that easily. Instead, she cut the ropes that bound his hands and his feet. She also helped him sit up from his former fetal position and took off the handkerchief that was tied to cover his eyes and the packaging tape that sealed his mouth shut. She pocketed her stele and stated, "I can't believe that you'd got caught by some _raveners_, Balian. I think I overestimated your capabilities. They don't even have hands to do this to you."

Once the tape on his mouth was peeled from his face Balian said defiantly as he stood up and stepped out of the chest, "How dare you insult my capabilities."

Lea shrugged and stood up as well. She dusted off her gear and fixed it while she was at it. "I just can't believe that a warlock like you was fooled by a bunch of _raveners_. I've always looked up on you and—"

"Lea, look out!" Balian shouted.

A _ravener_ demon came diving to Lea and whipped her right forearm, ripping the fabric of her gear and scraped the skin under it. She swung her blade sideward, slashing the demon back to where it came from—_hell_. It took a lot of her energy to pull that swing off, not only because she was wounded by the demon, but also because some of its poisonous drool dropped into her injured arm. She swallowed the pain down, trying to bear it. She dictated to Balian over her shoulder. "Balian, I need the portal _now_."

"But Lea your arm—"

Lea snapped, "_Now!_"

Balian approached Lea. He touched her injured forearm and said, "I could just give you even a little first aid—"

"I have a stele, Balian!" Lea roared. She panted after she said those words. Her eyes were filled with rage. But she was pale, sickly pale. Dark circles began to form around her eyes. It was the poison, Balian knew.

Balian sighed. He shook his head slightly. "Looks like I have no choice," he muttered. He snaked his left arm behind her knees and the other arm on her back, and lifted her.

Blood came rushing to Lea's cheeks, making it pink due to her pale face. "W-What are you doing, Balian?"

"I am carrying you. Isn't that obvious?" he stated without looking at her as he walked across the room.

She wanted to protest more, but her energy was slowly being drained. She had no other choice but to wrap her free unwounded arm over Balian's shoulders, and put the injured on her lap. She rested her head on the warlock's hard chest. Her eyes were about to close but she remembered her duffel bag that she left in the middle of the room. She was going to tell Balian when she felt one of his fingers swish on her back. Green flames danced in the air and lifted her bag, so it was floating about behind them. She smiled at the warlock.

He looked at her smiling face and there he knew how many men of any race would die fighting for this lovely face, defending their right to claim her. But he also knew that falling in love with this beautiful face would be like going against the High Warlock of Brooklyn, the most powerful warlock of this age. He might be powerful, but not as powerful compared to Magnus Bane. By just looking at her, she reminded him of the daughter of Zeus that caused the death of many men because of her beauty; the woman was named _Helen of Troy._ For Balian, she could bear the same definition of Helen; many men would die just to make her theirs, and he was one of them. To push away the terrifying thought, he returned his attention to the pathway towards the door. With no free hand to push the door open, he forced it open with his booted feet. Grass crunched under his walking feet, as soon as he found a big boulder for her to lean on, he slowly put her down at let her sit there. Her eyes reflected the light of the moon, as if they were the moon themselves. They were beautiful. He spoke to her softly, "There, self-medicate yourself here while I go make your portal."

"Thank you, Bale," she cooed. She was the only one who called him that way. She knew she was special to him, but he, on the other hand, also knew that they couldn't be together, especially after her loss. He was lovely, she thought. His hazelnut brown hair, forest green eyes, and olive skin would surely make any mundane girl swoon, maybe even the Nephilim and Downworlder women. She also knew what marked him a warlock; pointed ears, green dragon-scaled skin along his back, and the most disturbing, nipple-less chest. Yes, she already saw him half-nude, that's how they first saw each other – in his swimming party in one of his condominiums while she was in a mission that involved going into his party to look for the demon she was in the pursuit to killing back then.

He walked away and started to make a portal, but he knew her stare wasn't leaving him. He also knew that she had this habit of staring at people, speculating how they look and admiring their differences, not the normal things.

She took out her stele from her pocket and started drawing the Healing rune on her wounded arm. The worst thing about injuring an arm was when it was your dominant which was hurt. She was not the type of person who could use her lesser arm equally with the other. But that wasn't her main problem; she couldn't draw the _iratze_ on her arm because of the demon poison, it just turned into ripples like water. She could feel her body getting weaker and weaker. She grunted in annoyance. _It's not working_, she thought. She bit her lower lip and chewed on it in the process.

He turned around to look at her. She looked worse than before: her face was not only pale but sweat started to form on her forehead; her lips were pale and bleeding for she was biting them; and her arm, her arm was not bleeding but he knew it was poisoned because of the veins that surround it was turning violet and green. He stopped making the portal and came running towards her.

She tasted the iron that oozed out from her bitten lip, as she tried the _iratze_ again and again. Cold sweat streamed down from her temple to her chin. She didn't like the taste of her gulp as well, there was a sudden strong pang of bitterness in her tongue that spread out in her mouth. She must not die, _she can't die_!

He knelt beside her and ordered, "Take off your jacket."

She did what she was told and he helped her with it. With her weak state, she could not do things fast.

Once it was off her, his hands released green flames that slowly went in her open wound and slowly seeped out the demon poison that originated from the _ravener_'s saliva. He was already sweating, some of the poison spread faster than the others making it more difficult for his green flames to suck it out.

"Bale, the portal," she mumbled.

"Not now, you're nearing your own death and you're still worried about the portal," he scolded. "I really can't understand why Magnus Bane took you under his wing in the first place. You're too stubborn." He looked at her with his eye brows furrowed and focused eyes. "Now, just sit still."

She giggled lightly, "I'm not even moving."

"Quiet," he insisted. "Just sleep while I heal you."

"As you wish," she smiled. She slowly leaned on the boulder behind her and closed her eyes, letting the warm flames on her arm comfort her pain. She felt so tired and exhausted, slowly drifting herself to sleep.

With his muscled arms crossed over his chest, Alec tapped his feet impatiently as the elevator ran upward, wanting the flight to finish. He glared at the elevator's mouth until it opened. He immediately walked out the elevator and headed to the kitchen for he knew that the person he was going to _kill_ tonight was there.

He heard clattering sound of heels coming towards him. "Alec!" Like what he expected, it was his younger sister, Isabelle. "Finally, you're home! Sebastian is already—"

"I know. And I'm going to _kill_ him."

His strides were long. Isabelle was racing with him to keep up. She said, "You know you'll just harm yourself when you try to hurt—"

"He's in the kitchen, right?" Alec asked, not minding just what his sister said.

"Alec, you're just going to—"

"Right?" Alec roared. Isabelle was taken aback of the sudden burst of her brother.

Isabelle just nodded immediately as response. It had been a long time since Alec lost control of his composure; it was the time when Clary came into the picture in Jace's life for he thought he just lost his best friend, but he never did.

He left his sister behind. He strutted faster and faster as he reached the smell of food. He was already in the kitchen. And there _he_ was, sitting in the dining area as if he had done nothing wrong. Alec felt like his inner demons would come out and kill Sebastian themselves, his hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened.

Jonathan seemed to notice Alec's presence for he looked his way. He stared at him lazily as he rolled a grape in between his index finger and thumb. He just rolled his eyes and tossed the fruit into his mouth. He pushed himself up from his seat with the help of the table and stated as if Alec's face weren't murderous, "Sad, we don't have wine today. Luckily, I found some grapes here."

It was Jace to respond first. "_We_ are not yet done talking about your sudden leave, Jonathan." He sat on the other end of the table, opposite of Jonathan's former position.

"We don't need to talk, little brother," Jonathan answered. "I told you everything you need to know."

Jonathan started to walk away from the table when Jace shot up from his seat. He barked, "You haven't answered my question. Why were you looking for her?"

Jonathan halted. He glanced at Jace and approached him until they were staring at each other eye-to-eye. He tilted his head sideward, "I think I already answered that question, little brother. I. Don't. Know."

Jonathan started to back away and headed to the exit of the kitchen where Alec was forgotten, yet he still stood there, staring at Jonathan with hate. Alec blocked Jonathan's passageway and stared at him resentfully.

Jonathan rolled his eyes on Alec with disgust. "Now, what's your problem?"

Alec's fist flew towards Jonathan's face, but Jonathan was fast. He was able to blocked Alec's attack as if it was just a ball thrown to him.

Jonathan scoffed, "Trying to hit me, Lightwood? Think again." Like a grappling hook, Jonathan's large free hand seized Alec's neck and crashed his head to the concrete wall on the side of the exit of the kitchen and dining area.

Alec choked. He couldn't speak a word. So this was how Jonathan attacked Magnus, he was now experiencing it firsthand.

"Sebastian, stop!" It was Isabelle. She came running to Jonathan's side, pulling his arm back so he would stop crushing Alec's neck. "Sebastian, stop! You're killing my brother!" She called for Jace, "Jace, help me! Help Alec!"

Jace ran towards the lot. He wrapped his arm around Jonathan's neck and the other under his gripping arm, pulling him backward. "Jonathan, that's enough!" Jace commanded.

"What's happening here? Oh my God!" It was Clary who gasped after she saw what was currently happening. She came out running towards the lot. She also helped Isabelle pull Jonathan away from Alec. "Jonathan, stop it! You're killing Alec!"

Alec felt like he was going to die because of being choked by the person he was supposed to kill. He could see Jonathan's eyes that were filled with hate. This person would really kill him.

Clary shouted, "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, _STOP_!"

Alec's tightening throat eased. His neck was finally free from being crushed by Jonathan's hands. He panted and huffed, filling his lungs with the air he almost lost.

Jonathan jerked out from Isabelle and Jace's grip on him. He passed by his sister, ignoring her, strutting into the darkness of the hallway; away from the lot.

Alec sank down and he held on his neck, soothing it, while Isabelle sank on his side, rubbing his shoulder.

Clary knelt in front of Alec and apologized. "I am sorry, Alec. I'm sorry that Jonathan choked you."

Alec huffed, "No. It's my fault. I attempted to punch his face."

"Alec, you know he could get back right at you when you try to attack him," Jace said sternly. "That move was suicidal. He could kill you within few seconds."

"I know, Jace. You don't have to remind me," Alec answered.

"Alec, I know you're trying to avenge what he did to Magnus, but trying to hurt him will just be the reason of your immediate death," Isabelle added.

He glared at Isabelle. "It is like you're saying that I'm weak."

"Alec, that's not my point—"

"Then what is your point?" Alec snapped.

Isabelle sighed, "My point is, none of us should go to a head-to-head battle with Sebastian."

"Except for me," Jace commented. "I'm the only one who is capable of giving him great damage."

"Jace!" Clary scolded. She turned her attention to Alec again. "Just don't do it again, Alec. Because there will be a time that he won't listen to me and I won't be able to make him stop."

Alec smiled at Clary. "Thank you for your concern, Clary."

"Since Clary is the only one who he listens to," Jace started. Clary looked at him. "Clary, could you stay here until mom comes home?"

"But what about Jocelyn, Jace? You do know that Clary's mom is a little, you know…" Isabelle left her sentence hanging.

"I'll ask permission from her personally," Jace said.

"There's no need to do that Jace," Clary said as she stood up. She held Jace's hand. "I could explain to her the situation here. I'm sure she'll allow me to stay."

"Clary, love," he smiled. He lifted Clary's hand that held his and kissed the back of it. "I have killed tons of demons. Talking to your mother is just a piece of cake to me. You don't need to protect me. I am aware on how your mother looks at me."

"But Jace—"

Jace pressed a finger over Clary's lips. "Your mother would rather believe me that we need you here. She doesn't trust you when you talk about staying here. She would think you just want to be with me."

"And why do you think she won't think the same with you?" Clary questioned.

The finger that was pressed on Clary's lips was now twirling a lock of her hair. Jace lifted the lock and kissed it, making Clary's blood run to her cheeks. He said while doing this, "It is because she knows that you're more stubborn than me. And if she says no, you would still stay here no matter what, while I, on the other hand, will accept whatever she says."

"That is so _not_ true!" Isabelle interfered. "We all know that you two are both stubborn. You will do whatever you want no matter how people disagree with—"

Jace didn't let Isabelle finish her sentence and averted his attention to Alec. "Alec, I think you should stay with Magnus tonight so you could cool your head." Alec looked up to Jace. "You can also stay here, but make sure you won't be any near 5 meters radius from Sebastian's body or else you're really going to get it."

"Lea, wake up," someone whispered into Lea's ears. It was soft but it woke Lea from her sleep. "Lea, wake up. The Portal is already ready for you," the voice whispered again. Now, she could feel her shoulder being shaken a little.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a boy with leaf-tinted eyes that glistened in the light of the moon who smiled down at her. And behind him was a small pool of water that instead of lying horizontally, stood vertically. The pool revealed what seemed to be a red box larger than a human – the ever-so famous red telephone booth of England beside a brightly lit towering noir street lantern, grey-white buildings, and cobblestoned streets. But what made Lea sure that the place on the other side of the Portal was her destination was the environment seemed to be very _grey_. _London_, Lea thought. Lea remembered her ugly wound on her forearm, but when she took a look at it imagining that it would leave a nasty scar behind, there was nothing. Her gash didn't even leave a single scar. It was like her arm wasn't even injured.

"I already fixed your arm," Balian stated. "I made sure that I won't leave a scar as well. It took me almost two and a half hours though."

"Thanks, Bale," Lea smiled at the warlock, and then her expression changed into sudden horror. She exclaimed, "Two and a half hours?"

"Yes, why?" Balian tilted his head to the side.

"How long did you make the Portal?" Lea panicked.

"Around thirty minutes or so…"

"By the Angel, I'm bloody late!" Lea staggered herself up, clutching her duffel bag and her seraph blade on the other hand, and ran just right in front of the Portal. She looked back at Balian, who just stood up from his squat position, and said, "Thank you again, Balian. You're the most trustworthy warlock I have befriended."

"Thanks but what do you think of Rag—Magnus Bane?" the young warlock questioned.

"Magnus is like family to me while you are like my best friend that is a warlock," she answered him with a smile.

The teenage warlock scoffed but didn't say a word.

She waved farewell to him. "I'll see you next time?"

"That next time will not be as soon as you think," the warlock smirked.

She shook her head as she smiled. She took a few steps back, sprinted, and dived in the Portal. The opening of the Portal behind her disappeared as she teleported to another place.

Lea landed rolling on the dark cobblestoned streets of an alley in London. She stood up and dusted off the dirt off her gear. She saw this small bulb, but it wasn't transparent like a light bulb, but it was tinted black and it had this small circular glass within it. And she just realized it was a hidden security camera. She was lucky she had glamour, the camera wouldn't be able to see her just suddenly pop out of nowhere. She sighed in relief and began to run out of the alley and headed for the Shadowhunters' sanctuary in London, the London Institute.

She ran in the streets of England's capital. The place was now lit to life by pubs and some convenient stores that stay open twenty-for-seven. The scent of acrid cigarette smoke and strong delicious liquor went in her nostrils, making her want to drink and party but she couldn't. There were more important things that were needed to be done, so she continued to move her legs as fast as she could.

And there she stood in front of a church with great metal gates guarding it from the outside. The gate had the symbols of the Nephilim – runes, which made Lea sure that this was it, the London Institute. She stared at her _home_ and realized how the mundanes would never see the majestic beauty of this Institute. All they could see was old ruins of a torn down church. She missed this place. She lived in North America for too long now, but she would _never_ forget this gorgeous place.

As soon as she touched the cold metal bars of the gate, it slowly swung itself open, welcoming her with open arms. She stepped in the gates and it immediately rattled close. As she walked towards the door, she took out a dagger and pricked her index finger to unlock the great doors of the Institute. A ruby liquid came out of her finger and she smeared it on the cold metal of the door's latch. With a click, the great doors of the Institute creaked open.

She walked in the Institute and whirled around to watch the wooden doors of the Institute lock itself. She had always been amazed by the ability of the door to lock itself even though she had watched it close every time she came home.

"Cross! Hold it right there, you bloody mutt!" a familiar voice resounded in the rising ceiling of the Institute.

Lea whirled to look where the voice came from but instead of another Institute resident, a dog came skittering from the right wing of the Institute running towards her. It immediately flung itself to her.

Lea dropped her duffel bag and seraph blade to catch the dog. It licked her face, spreading dog drool from her cheek to her chin. Its fur had huge black patch that covered its eyes, ears, around the neck, back, and tail – excluding the tip, the parts that weren't mentioned and the tip of her tail were all white. It was London Institute's dog, a border collie. Lea giggled as the dog licked her face. "Cross, stop! Yes, yes, I'm home!"

"Finally you stopped, you little mongrel!" The person who bore the voice that echoed in the hallway was now in front of them and was panting, putting all of his weight onto his knees. He slowly rose to stand up straight and said, "You just heard the gates open and then you came out running—Lea, you're back!"

Lea set the dog down; it shook its whole body and sat beside her. Lea dusted off the fur that were stuck in her gear and stared at the person who recognized her. She laughed, "You look awful, Felix Nightwine. What happened to you?"

It was true; his black coffee-brown hair was disheveled, his fair-toned face had dirt and grime on it, his large black square-rimmed glasses were about to fall off his nose, and his plaid shirt was also crumpled and also had grime on it. He pushed his shirt down, trying to hand-iron it. He coughed to clear his throat. "I was in the garden, researching on the medicinal herbs we have there until your filthy _mutt_ came in and pounced on me." He hissed as he said the word '_mutt_'.

"I see," Lea looked at the dog which sat beside her innocently, wagging its tail. She shrugged. And then she suddenly felt this large muscled arms around her, she looked up to see who it was; it was Felix.

He buried his face onto her chestnut locks and muttered, "I missed you, Lea."

Lea also wrapped her arms around him, returning the hug. "I missed you too, Felix."

He pushed himself back and held her shoulders, while her hands were on his waist. He gave her a crooked, yet warm smile. "I'm so glad you're back."

Lea opened her mouth and was about to speak when another person, a woman, spoke, "You're late, Eleanor Ravencross."

Lea picked up her things as she said, "Miriam! I was about to look for—"

"No, excuses, Eleanor," the woman named Miriam scorned. "We still have a trip to Idris. You ought to fix your luggage now."

"Blimely, Mom, Lea just came home," Felix complained. Yes, she was Felix' mother. She looked like Felix' female version, but more serious and of course older; she and Felix shared the same black coffee-tinted locks and sea green eyes, but her skin was paler than Felix'. "You could at least give her time to rest, even just for a day."

"Am I talking to you, Felix Nightwine?" Miriam raised her brow on her son.

Lea saw Felix gulp in horror. She had always known that Felix never inherited his mother's sharp tongue, but his father's gentleness. She rubbed Felix' forearm to comfort him and told him, "It's all right, Felix. Your mother is right. We have to go to Idris immediately. We shouldn't let the Inquisitor wait."

"But—"

Lea just shook her head in response.

Felix sighed, "All right then." And there she went, leaving him again. It had been a long time since they had physical contact; she was always in missions ever since her fiancé died and she never came home. He knew she did that so she could clear her mind and to try not to remember his death; and to mend her shattered heart to be able to get back to normalcy. He knew she was hurt that's why she always worked, but the more she was away, the more Felix felt he was losing her.

Jonathan lied on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was still waiting for the _ravener_ he talked to get that Nephilim girl named, Eleanor. It was taking too long, his patience was diminishing. He wandered his eyes to his window, there were still mundanes walking back and forth under the tall street lights that lit the sidewalks. He saw something swift and dark approaching the Institute. _Finally_, he thought.

Sliding out from his bed, he stood up and headed towards his window; slowly pushing it open and looked sideways to make sure that there was no one around. He took one seraph blade from his collection of swords and sheathed it to his side. Swinging his right leg over the sill and followed by the other, he leaped and landed light-footedly on the grass below.

The demon wasn't able to come any nearer the Institute or else it would be noticed. It waited instead on the nearest alley from the Institute. Its tail was dripping black ichor; it was cut by the Shadowhunter woman it faced a while ago.

"It seems that you got in a little trouble," Jonathan approached the whimpering demon that tended on its tail.

"_Master_," it hissed. It lowered itself, as if attempting to bow before Jonathan.

Jonathan rolled his eyes in disgust. "I only have little time. So tell me, where's the girl?"

"_Master_," the demon started. "_The Nephilim girl got away._"

"What?" Jonathan thundered. He pulled out his seraph blade and muttered, "_Atheed_." The blade glowed like a star after he named it. He pointed the blade to the demon. He spoke while his teeth gritted in anger, "Your task was simple. You were just to bring the girl to me and yet you failed me."

"_Master, have mercy_," the demon pleaded.

"Mercy?" Jonathan scoffed. He raised the blade and said, "Here, have your mercy." He drove the blade onto the demon's body. Demon ichor splattered onto his face and clothes, although it did not hurt him like any Shadowhunter would burn their skin when in contact with demon blood. He was a demon himself, this was nothing. It bubbled and gurgled as it diminish and disappear into thin air.

He whirled to head back to the Institute. And a thought suddenly came into his mind. The Seelie Queen once told him, '_one day she'll be just by _your_ doorstep, even without you looking for her._' He smiled grimly and muttered, "It seems as if _my_ princess doesn't want to be found. I'll let her come to _me_ then."

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**A/N: Thank you for all the new follows and favorites! Thank you for believing in this fanfic! So... how's this chapter? This chapter is the longest chapter so far. I think I made Alec very cute [in my opinion]. And it looks like Jonathan is not the only one interested in Lea. What do you guys think? Feel free to tell me anything about this chapter. I totally accept constructive criticism. Happy reading! I love you all so much! xx**


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